ride.”
“You’re jesting, aren’t you?” When Aremys returned his gaze evenly, Myrt scoffed. “You expect me to believe the horse tried to tell you something?”
“Weren’t you listening when I told you about the Thicket’s magic? No, I’m not saying it talked, exactly,” he lied, “but I felt something, and if there is more to learn, this is my last chance. I also want to see le Gant.”
“No.”
“Yes! He is not loyal to Celimus. He’s like Koreldy and all the others that bastard has coerced and tricked, double-crossed and had killed. What do you think a soldier of that caliber was doing blundering about in the Razors anyway? Did you really think he wanted to be here with a gang of farmers who wouldn’t know a sword from a threshing fork?” Myrt bit his lip. “Come on, man. This was set up by the Morgravian King. He wanted Cailech to kill Gueryn, but I have to see him to find out why.”
“Because it might help in your mission?”
“Of course, why else would I want to see him?” Aremys lied again, and hated himself for deceiving this good man. “Keep the secret of Koreldy, I beg you—just a little longer. The King will learn of his death anyway once he enters Morgravia, or if you insist, I’ll tell him myself.”
“I do insist,” Myrt said, staring hard at Aremys.
“All right. Just keep it quiet for now until I can learn some more.”
Myrt nodded. “Where to now?”
“The dungeon,” Aremys replied grimly. “Then Galapek.”
6
G UERYN FELT FORGOTTEN . I T HAD BEEN DAYS SINCE M YRT AND HIS FRIEND HAD WALKED WITH HIM AND HE HAD BEGUN TO THINK HE WOULD never smell sweet air again. Food and fresh water were being delivered daily, however, so he knew he had not dropped entirely from the Moutain People’s consciousness. The jailer, Haz, offered no news or even conversation and Gueryn had given up trying to elicit any. In truth it was his own fault. Haz had made the effort to talk in the early days, but Gueryn’s refusal to eat had brought the King’s wrath down on his head. Now he ignored the prisoner, taking care of only the bare necessities.
Rashlyn had looked in on him twice since Gueryn had been returned to the dungeon, and was satisfied that his health wasbeing maintained. The Morgravian had greeted the soft-spoken healer with only an icy silence on each occasion.
Having decided that he was fighting a losing battle in trying to kill himself, and realizing that he could do more good by regaining his health and learning as much as he could about the Razor King and his intentions, Gueryn had tried to keep himself fit. Once he felt strong enough, he had begun doing push-ups; now he was up to three hundred daily. As a result, his upper body was muscled again. And he walked. His cell was relatively narrow but quite long and he had used this length to pace relentlessly up and down. He lost count of the times he met each wall at either end because he had given up keeping track after a thousand. And with his physical health restored, he had begun to speculate on his situation.
The hated Rashlyn knew something about Lothryn, that much was clear. And he was smug about it. This suggested to Gueryn that perhaps the brave Mountain Man might not have perished as they had all assumed. Gueryn also knew the King was keeping him alive so that Koreldy would return to save him, but he had no idea why Cailech should believe there was any attachment between them. Gueryn had never met Koreldy until that time in the fortress. The odd thing was that until Gueryn’s sewn-up eyes had been released of their stitching, he had believed Koreldy to be Wyl Thirsk! He had gone over it time and again in his mind, realizing that he had just wanted to believe it was Wyl. Nevertheless, something deep down told him there was more to the puzzle than what his eyes had confirmed. Even when he saw the unfamiliar face, he had still believed Wyl was somehow present. And how could Koreldy know the family
“You’re jesting, aren’t you?” When Aremys returned his gaze evenly, Myrt scoffed. “You expect me to believe the horse tried to tell you something?”
“Weren’t you listening when I told you about the Thicket’s magic? No, I’m not saying it talked, exactly,” he lied, “but I felt something, and if there is more to learn, this is my last chance. I also want to see le Gant.”
“No.”
“Yes! He is not loyal to Celimus. He’s like Koreldy and all the others that bastard has coerced and tricked, double-crossed and had killed. What do you think a soldier of that caliber was doing blundering about in the Razors anyway? Did you really think he wanted to be here with a gang of farmers who wouldn’t know a sword from a threshing fork?” Myrt bit his lip. “Come on, man. This was set up by the Morgravian King. He wanted Cailech to kill Gueryn, but I have to see him to find out why.”
“Because it might help in your mission?”
“Of course, why else would I want to see him?” Aremys lied again, and hated himself for deceiving this good man. “Keep the secret of Koreldy, I beg you—just a little longer. The King will learn of his death anyway once he enters Morgravia, or if you insist, I’ll tell him myself.”
“I do insist,” Myrt said, staring hard at Aremys.
“All right. Just keep it quiet for now until I can learn some more.”
Myrt nodded. “Where to now?”
“The dungeon,” Aremys replied grimly. “Then Galapek.”
6
G UERYN FELT FORGOTTEN . I T HAD BEEN DAYS SINCE M YRT AND HIS FRIEND HAD WALKED WITH HIM AND HE HAD BEGUN TO THINK HE WOULD never smell sweet air again. Food and fresh water were being delivered daily, however, so he knew he had not dropped entirely from the Moutain People’s consciousness. The jailer, Haz, offered no news or even conversation and Gueryn had given up trying to elicit any. In truth it was his own fault. Haz had made the effort to talk in the early days, but Gueryn’s refusal to eat had brought the King’s wrath down on his head. Now he ignored the prisoner, taking care of only the bare necessities.
Rashlyn had looked in on him twice since Gueryn had been returned to the dungeon, and was satisfied that his health wasbeing maintained. The Morgravian had greeted the soft-spoken healer with only an icy silence on each occasion.
Having decided that he was fighting a losing battle in trying to kill himself, and realizing that he could do more good by regaining his health and learning as much as he could about the Razor King and his intentions, Gueryn had tried to keep himself fit. Once he felt strong enough, he had begun doing push-ups; now he was up to three hundred daily. As a result, his upper body was muscled again. And he walked. His cell was relatively narrow but quite long and he had used this length to pace relentlessly up and down. He lost count of the times he met each wall at either end because he had given up keeping track after a thousand. And with his physical health restored, he had begun to speculate on his situation.
The hated Rashlyn knew something about Lothryn, that much was clear. And he was smug about it. This suggested to Gueryn that perhaps the brave Mountain Man might not have perished as they had all assumed. Gueryn also knew the King was keeping him alive so that Koreldy would return to save him, but he had no idea why Cailech should believe there was any attachment between them. Gueryn had never met Koreldy until that time in the fortress. The odd thing was that until Gueryn’s sewn-up eyes had been released of their stitching, he had believed Koreldy to be Wyl Thirsk! He had gone over it time and again in his mind, realizing that he had just wanted to believe it was Wyl. Nevertheless, something deep down told him there was more to the puzzle than what his eyes had confirmed. Even when he saw the unfamiliar face, he had still believed Wyl was somehow present. And how could Koreldy know the family
Similar Books
